The Way Things Were
by Liebling
Summary: Classic. DG


"I'll be your crying shoulder I'll be love suicide I'll be better when I'm older I'll be the greatest fan of your life"  
  
-Edward McCain "I'll be"  
The tale is timeless; a couple that thinks they are so blatantly in love, and finally comes to a point where they realize that they are simply-not. Their eyes were covered by the sensation and wonder of falling so far down you never want to come up again. It was all the girl, and the boy dreamed of, the future of tomorrow. They were young, and they knew very little, except what felt good and what didn't. And it 'felt' good to be together. Love, for a while, was all it's cracked up to be. There were stolen kisses on the steps, laughing so hard you cried, hand-in-hand walking to class, and sharing spaghetti dinners on the Astronomy Tower. The girl, especially, would marvel at the beauty of love and how amazing it was. The boy, too, was pleased at his newfound companion. But happiness ceases, and dreams go astray for people, who just can't have everything their way.  
  
For a year and a half, you never saw one without the other. Always together, always holding hands. Recognizably, they were cute together, the girl with a pink bow in her hair the boy with his broom in tow. And when someone would see them in the hallways together, they'd giggle and sigh wistfully, "It must be marvelous to be so in love," and then they'd go back to reading their Transfiguration book. It was so, for a while.  
  
Older people say that nothing can replace young love, innocent, full-to-the- brim, roller coaster love. Except for mature love that is. The girl went on believing telling her friends, "it's so nice, to have this amazing guy, that will just sit there and hold you" her friends would squeal delightedly, "Tell us more. Tell us more." And the boy would take secret pride in all the harebrained stories the girl would tell to her friends. Dancing on the porch, singing at the concerts, jumping up and down in delight, hugging till' their arms got sore. Loving like love would never leave.  
  
It was, a fantasy-like tale. There were sad times too, but the girl was young, and she washed the sad tales away. The boy was a year older, and he kept the sad tales hidden away in his cold heart, the girl didn't know though.  
  
"Remember when we'd go over to the duck-pond?" The girl asked her gingersnap coloured hair swaying in the wind.  
  
"The duck-pond?" The boy asked, exchanging an odd look with her.  
  
"We used to always throw pieces of croutons at the ducks," the girl said in a near whisper.  
  
"I remember," the boy replied hoarsely.  
  
"I remember too."  
  
It was not hard for the girl to say; "I love you" it was rather easy, really. Being naïve, she quickly threw herself into the whirlwind of emotion, as known as a relationship. And after only a while, she was very confident about saying "I love you." The boy faltered, he was strong, but not strong enough to confess love. It took him longer, but he opened up and she loved him for it. Perhaps that was another downfall to the relationship, she gave him her soul so early on.  
  
The boy said he was 'always' right, the girl disliked him for this and always ended up giving in with a sigh. Quite the stray puppy, she was. But at the time, everything was trivialized and downplayed. And the relationship, through the rough waters, continued on.  
  
"And then," the girl squealed at a sleepover, "we sat by the fire roasting marshmallows all night." Her friends gasped in borrowed happiness from the girl. Her victory was their victory, that was what "friendship is" the girl proclaimed.  
  
The boy would laugh at these stories and playfully poke the girl, "It wasn't 'that' great." To which the girl would reply, "Are you 'bloody' kidding me? It's amazing; I can't imagine my life without you-" the boy would cut her off shortly by putting two of his fingers to her chapped lips. "Shhh, doll."  
  
The breakup was not ugly, but it was however quite a deal filled with cold emotion, cold, hard, no-crying, emotion. The relationship disintegrated into a pile of dust on a broken floor. The road to the underworld is paved with good intentions. The girl surely had decent, valid reasons to be involved with this boy. She, needed to be loved, appreciated, hugged. It was her one need to feel special, her self-confidence was lacking and she needed someone who she could lose herself in. The boy wanted a companion of sorts and sought advice and comfort in the young girl. Equally, they loved each other.  
  
However, it is easy to love, but harder to realize what love is. The girl's version of love was warped. It was the immature version of love, "and we'll go eat ice cream together" and "when we get married, can I have 'that' wedding dress?" it was the hopeless desire to be hopelessly desired ((Mark Twain)). She mixed it up with what real love means. The "I can live without you, I just don't want to" love.  
  
Stopping to pick up a pebble on the ground she examined it closely. The marble colouring was complex and yet simple all in one. It was thrown in with all the river-rocks and stood out only because of the shimmer it produced. Her milk chocolate coloured eyes peering intensely at it as the wind whipped her hair.  
  
"Hey," was the oh so familiar face that came from behind her. Quickly she turned around.  
  
"What are you doing here?" She asked a cold look on her pixie face. "I told you, I didn't want to see you anymore. For your safety-"  
  
"Listen," he began, a pitiful look she had never seen in his eyes before, "I'm sorry."  
  
"No you're not," the girl said turning her back on him.  
  
"Yes, I am," he said grasping her shoulder and her turning her back around.  
  
Don't give in. Her heart told her. Don't let him 'buy' you back like that. You broke up with him, and you had your reasons. And the reasons- STAND.  
  
"So, let me get this straight, you're sorry for making me cry? Sorry for cheating on me with that ditz (obviously referring to Pansy) and your sorry about leading me to believe that you loved me too? No, it's impossible isn't it? For a Malfoy to give part of his heart to another-" she stomped her foot in an immature way, reminding the boy to never date girls' who were younger than himself.  
  
"How dare you say that!" He exclaimed, in a voice that did not seem mocked, "The love that I felt for you was not feigned, it never was."  
  
"Sure it wasn't," the girl replied skeptically.  
  
"It wasn't. I don't know how you could totally say that-"  
  
The girl simply turned her back to the rock once again.  
  
He took her by the shoulder and turned her roughly around once again.  
  
"I told you to get your hands off me," she stated.  
  
Annoyed, the boy rolled his eyes, "For one, Pansy is not a ditz-" the girl snorted "-and for another, I want to make this clear to you. You're young, doll. So young-"  
  
"Like you're so much older," was the sarcastic remark.  
  
"Anyway, you are so young, and I know what I was your first taste at love. What I did with Pansy was wrong, but I don't want you to get the impression that our love was faked or false. You've a young heart."  
  
"You broke it you imbecile," she taunted mercilessly, "you hurt me. You did this to me. It was not my age it was you. And for your information, Pansy is a ditz. Which just goes to figure."  
  
The boy put two fingers to her chapped lips. His fingers stung her cold lips. It felt good to have his fingers on her lips again, but at the same time, it felt wrong and so, not the same as it was before.  
  
"It's totally messed," she stated, "what you did. Now, don't tell me you've come to apologize. I won't take any apology."  
  
He gave her a fleeting look of sorry-ness but she didn't even turn her head in his direction.  
  
"Dray, we've been broken up for two weeks now, I've finally gotten my life back together-" which was a boldfaced lie "- I've finally realized that, what we had was false." The words hurt her tongue.  
  
He flinched like he had just been slapped; "False?" he choked out.  
  
"Yes, false. You have to realize, that for me to get my life back in order, as it should be, I have to rationalize all of this junk you did to me in my mind. And I can't rationalize it any other way but by saying that it was doomed to begin with. I've moved on." Her face hid a hurt heart as a cold tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
The boy fought the instinct to put a protective arm around her, but squelched that. "It wasn't false."  
  
"Then what was it?"  
  
He was at a perhaps, loss of words, "Listen, you do what you have to do to be able to move on."  
  
Quickly she blurted out, "Have you moved on?"  
  
The boy brushed a piece of his wavy blond hair out of his face, "Yeah, I've come at peace with it."  
  
"Still going with Pansy?"  
  
Wanting terribly to lie about it, the boy shook his head. "Yeah, I am."  
  
"Do you love her?" The girl questioned tiredly leaning on a larger rock.  
  
"Yeah, I do," was the meager reply.  
  
"Do you love her more than you loved me?" Was the girl's question.  
  
"I'll never love her more than I love you," he replied solemnly.  
  
The girl nodded, "I," pause, "I hope your happy." It was genuine but the tone was false.  
  
"Well, I am-" another boldfaced lie "- it'll be better this way, you know, for both of us. To see new people and everything."  
  
"But I wanted you."  
  
"I know you did sweetie, there's someone out there for you."  
  
Once again, she nodded, "I know. It's okay, it doesn't matter, whatever, just go 'way okay?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that'd be a good idea, I just wanted to tell you-"he began hesitantly.  
  
"I know."  
  
Slightly he turned his back on the girl and began walking up back to the castle. She pulled her maroon cloak tighter around her and sighed deeply.  
  
Slowly, he began walking back towards her once again.  
  
"Hey doll," he walked right up next to her giving her one of his trademark smirks, "do you remember when we'd go to the duck- pond?" Draco Malfoy asked her, furrowing his eyebrows.  
  
"The duck-pond?" She questioned, looking away out to the sky.  
  
"We used to always throw pieces of croutons at the ducks," he said in a near whisper.  
  
"I remember," Ginny Weasley, said the words barely escaping her mouth.  
  
"I remember too." 


End file.
